Milk and Cookies
by particularly good finder
Summary: ...And Absolutely No Booze At All. Kurt Hummel has witnessed a lot of strange things in his life, but opening the door to find a crying Santana Lopez on his doorstep probably takes the cake.


"Look, Blaine, I just can't be sexy. Put me in the back, no one will have to watch me," Kurt said dejectedly, sighing into his phone. "Yes, I'm willing to give up a solo to improve the group; I'm not _Rachel Berry_."

A loud knock sounded downstairs, causing Kurt to jump in fright. "Oh, someone's at the door. Look, we'll argue about this later. No, watching Mean Girls will not make me sexier, don't suggest it again, Blaine! Goodnight." He ended the call and left his room, jogging down the stairs. A second loud knock (well, _several_ knocks) sounded again, more urgent this time.

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Finn, if you forgot your house key again, I'm leaving you out there!" Kurt called as he approached the door. An angry voice came from the other side.

"Listen, Pride Parade, if you leave me out here, I swear I'll-" Kurt opened the door to see Santana Lopez standing on his doorstep. As if it wasn't shocking enough to see the bitchy cheerleader at his house without her ditzy best friend by her side (the only one of the two whom actually had any sort of friendly feelings towards Kurt), it was even stranger to see her _huggign_ herself, eyes red and cheeks tear-stained.

"Santana? What's wrong? What happened?" Kurt asked, ushering her inside. The pretty girl trembled a little, and Kurt wondered if she was _dying_ or something _serious_.

"I-I…I told Brittany that I love her. And she rejected me."

Well, he certainly wasn't expecting _that_. Kurt gaped for ten whole seconds before stuttering, "O-oh, no…oh, Santana…I'm s-so _sorry_…"

Santana wiped away a tear, shrugging. "I just…I worked up the courage to tell her how I _really_ felt…to tell her that I was willing to come out if it meant I could _be_ with her…God, Kurt, I'm so sorry."

She collapsed into Kurt's arms, sobbing into his neck. Kurt rubbed her back, leading her over to the living room couch. "For what? Staining my t-shirt? Because I'll let you in on a secret – it's from Target."

Surprisingly, the cheerleader laughed, then let out another sob. "No, I mean…I had no idea how _hard_ it was…_is_…for you. Just the thought of what people would say behind my back if Britt had said yes…I'm such a bitch…"

Kurt stroked her hair, squeezing her tightly. "Yes, yes you are…but it's okay."

Santana pulled away, wiping at her eyes. "God, I'm so weak. Crying in front of the Queen Fairy."

Kurt shot her a _bitch-please-_look, and she shrugged. "I always wanted a Fairy Godmother."

The brunette boy shrugged haughtily. "Well, I always wanted a Butch Bestie, so…you'll have to do."

They both laughed, and the tension and sadness in the room seemed to lift. "Do you want something to drink?" Kurt asked, standing and moving towards the kitchen. "I've got some Perierre water, some grapefruit juice, a little bit of a mango-peach smoothie left…"

Santana followed, leaning on the kitchen counter. "Ya got booze?"

Kurt gave her an amused look. "Nope. I've cut it from Dad's diet, and Carole doesn't really drink. Plus, I don't think she trusts Finn _that_ much…"

The cheerleader sighed. "D'you at least have some chocolate milk?"

A silence, then: "The great and powerful Santana "I-Will-Cut-You" Lopez wants _chocolate milk_? As a substitute for booze?"

Santana scowled, flipping her hair. "Make with the chocolate, Fairy. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

Pulling a carton and a bottle from the fridge, Kurt smirked at the girl. "Would you like some cookies to go with that?" He asked, pouring out two glasses of milk.

"_Donde estas?"_ She asked, examining her fingernails. Kurt pointed to the pantry, and, for a moment, Santana grinned happily, like a little girl, and ran to get the cookies.

"Really? _Organic_? What kind of shit is this?" Santana asked, pulling out the package. "What's wrong with Chips Ahoy?"

Kurt stopped mixing in the chocolate syrup to say, "Hey, watch it. I gave you cookies, I can take them away, too."

Childishly, Santana shoved one in her mouth. "I'd like to see you try- Hey! These are pretty damn good. _Me gusta_," she said, chewing ungracefully.

"Obviously. An organic lifestyle is a superior lifestyle. Now bring those and we'll have some lady-bonding in my room."

"Wanky wanky," Santana mewed, waggling her eyebrows.

"Do you want a facial or not?" Kurt called behind him as he ascended the stairs.

"Depends what _kind_," the cheerleader shouted back, practically purring.

"Do you always get so horny when you get rejected?" Kurt asked bluntly, opening the door to his room. "Or am I just special?"

"Funny. Now give me the damn milk."

They sat on Kurt's bed, eating their cookies and drinking their milk. Kurt had fallen silent, and Santana briefly (_briefly_) wondered if she had gone too far by staying this late; she and Kurt had never been _friends_.

"What's up, Pride Parade? You being silent is like…Rachel Berry being silent."

Kurt look amused. "You are worse with nicknames than Coach Sylvester. Though I think I prefer Porcelain to Fairy."

"Alright then, Porcelain. What's got you all quiet and serious over there? Because if you're worried about your pear-hips, let me tell you, honey, they look smokin' from this angle."

Kurt blushed, shaking his head. "No…I was just…well, honestly, wallowing in my own misery. Blaine's basically rejected every advance I've made, and now he thinks I'm just about as sexy as a baby penguin. I'm going to be single forever!" He cried, falling back against his pillow.

Santana sighed, falling down next to him. "We're so pathetic. Drowning out sorrows in kiddy snacks because you can't get a date from a hobbit and my best friend refuses to break up with her boyfriend. Are you _sure_ you don't have any booze?"

Kurt shook his head. "As warranted as getting drunk would be right now, alcohol and I have a bad history together."

A moment: "Wanna make out?"

"Santana!" Kurt cried indignantly. "Not every problem can be solved with sex!"

The cheerleader shrugged. "S'always worked for me."

"Well, maybe that's why you're so angry all the time."

Santana paused, thinking. "What's wrong with sex?"

Kurt shrugged. "Sex is just…it's so personal…and be honest: were you _really_ ready and committed when you first lost your virginity?"

"No. But it doesn't matter. Sex feels good, and that's it. It's just something to do when you're bored." There was a hint of doubt in Santana's words.

Kurt looked like he was going to argue, but he stopped himself, face flushing. Instead, he asked, "What's it like?"

The cheerleader smirked. "Fucking awesome. I could show you, if you like-"

"NO!" Kurt shouted, jumping a little. "No, no, a description is all I need, _thank you_."

Santana scooted closer to Kurt, resting her head on the same pillow that his was on. They were both icy, superior people, and very rarely liked to be intimate with others (sex, in Santana's book, was _not_ intimate). But right now was different, though neither would ever say it out loud. Intimate was…nice. Comforting.

"Well, it's hot and painful and amazing and empowering and _wild_. You just…forget who you are…let the feelings take over your body…" Santana whispered, trailing her fingers across her stomach. Kurt swallowed, face bright red.

"_Oh_," was all he could manage. Santana smirked a little.

"Yeah, well…look, Porcelain: we've got to get our acts together. I will give you lessons in sexy, and you will help me win Brittany back. Deal?"

Kurt set down his glass, smiling. "These lessons…they won't actually involve sex, right?"

Santana winked. "Nope. That costs extra."

"And we'll find Artie a new girlfriend in the process of winning Brittany back?"

She sighed. "Fine. I know a girl on the squad who has a thing for guys in suspenders, the freak."

"Good. I think we have a deal, Ms. Lopez," Kurt said, smiling. Santana smirked, then pulled Kurt close to her, hugging him tightly.

"You tell anyone about this, you're dead."

"Got it."

"And no one can know that I cried in front of you. I know where you live."

"Obviously."

"And if anyone asks why I was over, we were getting _drunk_. Booze was involved. Lots of it."

"I'll tell them I found you in Finn's closet, wearing his Gaga costume, passed out in a puddle of your own vomit."

"I like the way you think, Porcelain."

"What else are fairy godmothers for?"

And that is how Finn Hudson came to witness Santana Lopez cuddling with Kurt Hummel three hours later at one in the morning, an empty cookie package on the end of the bed and some questionable websites opened on Kurt's web browser.

Finn decided it was just better not to ask.

**What is this? Why do I let myself on Word when I'm tired? Sweet Jesus…Review please! **


End file.
